This Is It
by Quilled
Summary: Buffy finally understands where she belongs - B/S, what else?


-I know this has been done before. I don't care, I was bored. And I also own nothing, k?-

This is it.

The cow hat, the non-wedding, the light at the end of the tunnel that just went out. 

I used to be in that light, until my best friends pulled me out. I know they all have their own problems, but damn it, I'm gonna have a selfish Buffy moment and say I don't care. Actually, I've been having more and more of those selfish Buffy moments lately. I don't care about that either. 

I can't find it in me to care, but I'm not wrong or evil or a demon. Well, I guess that depends on your perspective. Not literally wrong, not literally evil. Just a sunburn. In reality, just a UV problem. I can't go outside though, face the harsh light of day. 

This world can go to hell, because I hate it. I hate slaying demons and gods and vampires. I hate living without my mom. I hate living without Giles around to guide me. I hate Spike and his love and his body that just can't look unsexy for one goddamn minute! I hate living with my friends around all the time, making sure Buffy's alright, Buffy's okay, because we can't give her up again. And if we had to, we'd just resurrect her from perfect happiness again. Oh, joy. 

So, I'm telling you I'm hateful. I'm full of hate, not love. What am I? Not human. I'm Buffy Summers, Slayer with a duty. Just once, I'd like to be the rebel without a cause. But life can't cut me a break. Guess that's to be expected, right? 

Knock, knock. Someone at the door? Nope, I'm knocking on Spike's door. Funny, huh. Never knocked on it before, never. 

But now I am. Now I find it in myself to show some common courtesy to this vampire. This vampire who tried to kill me. This vampire who loved Drusilla. This vampire that hates Angel. This vampire that loves me. Loves my sister. Liked my mother. This vampire that fought beside me. This vampire that never left me. This vampire that just opened the door. Holy shit, he just opened the door, and here I was being spacey. Okay, resuming cool, aloof Buffy.

"Hey, Spike." Yay, sounds calm, uncaring, unfeeling. Sounds like the truth.

"Slayer." Equally calm, uncaring, and unfeeling. His eyes would belie that, but he's put up his walls. I used to have those walls, but now I don't need them. Except when I'm around him, I do feel, and that scares me. So I use the walls too. 

Why don't I explain the walls. There are usually many layers, because if someone manages to break through those walls, we need backup. The first wall is pretending not to care about the person at all. Just act like they're another ant in the world. Second wall, barbs, salvo, snide comments, verbal jabs. Third wall, real jabs, you know, physical violence. Fourth wall, avoidance. Fifth wall, well, that's the problem. There is no fifth wall. Once you're past the fourth, beware. They're going to hurt you because they've weaseled their way past your walls and stole a piece of your oreo cookie heart. But even that has a chocolate cookie covering. A valiant attempt at keeping unwanted visitors out. Usually these chocolate cookies with little designs on the outside are built up from hurt. Pain others have caused you. If someone manages to nibble away at the cookie and get to the filling, you're in trouble. You're in love. Ah, seeing my point now? Good.

Spike didn't have the walls for a long time. I'm sure he had them after Dru left, but they wore away on their own after awhile away from her. I don't know what that's like. My walls never had the time to wear away, because I just got hurt again before they had a chance to. My dad, Angel, Parker, Riley, Mom, Giles. Spike, he broke my walls, skipped the chocolate cookie crust and went straight to the creamy white filling. So I flipped the oreo over and presto, another chocolate cookie. But he's made no attempt to go through that after I told him I was through. I was on my own then.

"What do you want?" Sure, the words themselves may sound harsh, but if you heard them, you'd know they weren't. He spoke softly with a little concern, and a lot confusion.

How to answer that question. I want to be in Heaven. I want to be with Mom. I want Giles to come home. I want to feel. I want all of that. But I can't tell him that. He knows without my answer. I hate that about him. He knows me, even when I don't know me. He can tell what I'm thinking, he can anticipate my actions. He knows what I'm going through, because really, it's happened to him too. "I want..." is it just me or is the Jeopardy theme song playing in the background? "to be happy." Oh, crap. Oh crappity crap crap. I wasn't supposed to say that. I was supposed to say 'I want ice cream' or 'I want love,' without sounding like Elton John. Not 'I want to be happy.' Jeez, Buff, way to use those walls.

"Okay." It sounds so simple, like that's the key to my happiness. Just...okay. Okay what? Four letter, two syllable word. But at the same time, it speaks volumes. He knows it does, I know it does.

Great. Fabulous. I'm crying. I choose now to get those feelings that were nonexistent for so long. I gotta say, boo to overcompensation. But it's fine, I'm in his arms. Right before I start to cry, as if he could sense it, he embraces me. Safe, comforting. Like he said, cold comfort. But it's not cold, despite his body temperature. Because there's so much behind that simple gesture, it's too warm to be cold.

"Want to watch Dawson's Creek with me?" Why does he watch dramas and soaps? I'll never figure him out. So unlike Angel. But, not in a bad way. I actually wouldn't love him if he were like Angel.

"Yeah." It's true. I do want to watch it. Not because I'm a DC fan, but because it's nice to just sit with him and forget everything else. Forget that cruel life I can't seem to hide from. But Spike's my escape, where we can just get away and pretend, if only for a little while.

He sits next to me and casually drapes his arm around me. I'm not uncomfortable about it though, it's right. The television screen's blaring, Katie Holmes and Chad Michael Murray going on about that Michelle Williams chick. Don't ask me how I know, Spike got Dawn into watching it over the summer. God knows what else they did. Probably steal, pillage, kill...okay, maybe not kill since Spike's Chips Ahoy. I mean, come on, we're talking about Spike here. It's not like they played cards in the living room or something.

...Wait a second. Let me backpedal a moment. Whoa. There it is. _I actually wouldn't love him if he were like Angel._ That. That thing I said...er, thought. What's with that? Have I been dropping acid? Oh well, probably, definitely meant in that friend kinda love. I love Spike. I love him. I love him. I love him. Not half as hard as I thought it would be. I love him.

"You do, do you? Never had you pegged as the Kerr Smith fan." What? Hmm, must have said that last 'I love him' out loud.

"Spike." Where exactly is my mouth going with this? And may I say, that my rational thought is not tagging along on that little trip.

"Yeah, pet?" He's not looking at the show anymore. He's Mr. Pay Attention all of the sudden. Eek, chickening out now. Here's where rational thought catches up. Or, should, anyways.

Ah, yes. Perfect. I kiss him, that's my rational thought. I love how he kisses. It's like he knows just how to do it. And then he proceeds to do it. And this, this is Heaven. This is where I belong. This is my world, and I don't hate it.

This is it.

-fin-


End file.
